


Don’t Let Go

by seratonation



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Beehive Mud Huts, Escape, F/M, Harran, Insecurity, M/M, Multi, Pre-Relationship, Running Away, Turkey - Freeform, Türkçe | Turkish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-22 15:17:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seratonation/pseuds/seratonation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Bruce was gone for a month before anyone thought of looking for him. A few whispered words here and there, and Clint and Natasha managed to slip out on a Quinjet before anyone could stop them.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don’t Let Go

**Author's Note:**

> The beehive mud huts of Harran in Turkey have been unused since the 1980’s due to the rivers, which was its main water supply, drying up. I ask that you suspend your belief for the duration of the story. The idea of Bruce escaping the Stark Tower to live in a mud hut was too good to pass up. Thank you to Shannen for the beta and the constant support <3
> 
> Written for [](http://kyrilu.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://kyrilu.livejournal.com/)**kyrilu** for the avengersfest 2012.

They’ve all done it before. They’ve all pulled a disappearing act, especially after a difficult mission, or just had long bouts of silence. In fact, it didn't take much for one of them to up and leave for a few days, or a couple of weeks. Tony had his workshop, Steve had his motorbike, Clint would disappear and they would only realise days later he was in the air ducts. Thor would go back and forth between Asgard and no one knew where Natasha went.

Bruce was gone for a month before anyone thought of looking for him. A few whispered words here and there, and Clint and Natasha managed to slip out on a Quinjet before anyone could stop them.

They found him cooped up in a small village at the edge of Turkey, sleeping in a cone shaped mud hut. He told them he had planned to start making his way back in the next couple of days. Natasha wasn’t sure she believed him.

“If I told you to go on ahead...” he started.

“Nice try,” Clint said, settling down in the dirt, “we’re not going anywhere without you.”

“You had us worried,” she said.

He gave her a considering look. “You know I have the Other Guy under control now,” he said.

“We know that,” Clint said, “do you?”

“No,” Natasha said, “ _you_ had us worried, Bruce.”

“I was doing this for a long time before you showed up,” he said, “I can handle myself.”

“Why do you always twist what I say?” she asked, but before she could go on, Clint interrupted.

“Because you talk in twists and turns,” he said, smirking at her, “not everyone speaks the language of the Widow.”

“No,” she said, “Bruce does it on purpose.”

“Okay, let’s everyone just take a deep breath,” Bruce said, “when does SHIELD want you back?”

“Well... SHIELD doesn’t really know we’re here, exactly,” Clint said, stretching out.

“Oh, that’s fantastic,” Bruce said, smiling without humour, “so when they come for you they’ll find me too.”

“You’re starting to think like us now,” Natasha said, “but that’s not how it’s going to go.”

“It’s not?” Bruce said, “Please, do tell.”

“We’re taking you home,” she said, shifting her weight just slightly, going from determined to menacing in under a second.

“That’s it, that’s your plan?” Bruce said, amused, “what if I say no?”

She got a sudden rush of déjà vu but didn’t give into the impulse to repeat their first meeting. “We’ll wait,” she said instead, “until you’re ready.”

“You know that defeats the purpose of alone time, right?” He looked between them; at Clint sprawled out on the dusty ground, and at Natasha, standing impassive by the door.

“You’ve had a whole month of alone time, doc,” Clint said, “now it’s assassin time.”

Bruce sighed and Natasha knew half the battle was won. “I have to go check on patients,” he said, “stay out of trouble, I’ll get us dinner.”

***

After he was done with his rounds, Bruce arrived at the hut to find Clint standing outside, surrounded by kids jumping up and down around him.

“Barton,” he said, “what did I say?”

“This isn’t trouble,” Clint said, “I heard yelling, I came out to see some older kids messing with these younger ones here, when I came out to see what was going on the older ones left. I think they’re trying to say thank you?”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “They want you to play with them, so the older kids don’t keep bothering them.” He knelt down and spoke to the kids in the same language, talking fast and pointing at Clint, but not in an accusing way. In fact, Clint got the feeling Bruce was introducing him.

Bruce stood up; the kids gave Clint a last touch each and ran off. “Let’s go,” Bruce said, and led the way into his hut.

They had dinner in relative silence. They asked Bruce about the village, his work, and the people he’s decided to surround himself with.

Later, when Clint had found a corner and curled himself into the smallest possible position, Bruce hugged his knees to his chest and looked at Natasha. She had left her suit and wrist cuffs at home, even as Clint was now curled protectively around his bow.

“What are you doing here, Natasha?” he asked her quietly.

“We came for you,” she said, “everyone is worried that you won't come back this time.”

“Everyone?” he asked.

“Tony keeps an eye on your room,” she said, “he thinks you might sneak in without him noticing. Thor comes and goes to your floor, hoping someone will answer. Steve’s pretty quiet but I get the feeling he worries it was his fault. Not enough team bonding maybe.”

Bruce smiled wistfully. “I wasn’t meant to be gone for so long.”

“So what happened?”

He shrugged. “It’s easier here,” he said, “they don’t think much about me, besides being the one who helps them. No Other Guy, no superheroes, no magic.”

“No science,” she countered, “no one who cares about you, no one to hold you at night and keep you warm.”

He let out a huff of laughter. “I didn't have those things over there, except maybe the science.”

“You could,” she said, “if you wanted it.”

“Pity sex?” he asked suddenly, “is that where this is going?”

“No,” she said, taken aback, “there you go again, twisting what I say.”

“So speak plainly,” he said, “say what you mean, not in riddles and in hints.” But before she could reply he was pushing aside the curtain that acted as their door and was outside.

He took a walk. He walked around the edges of the small town, hands in his pockets, letting the cool air calm him. When he went back, he found the two assassins curled around each other, fast asleep. He thought he’d be angry, or upset, but instead he was just sad, and felt lonelier than ever.

***

Bruce left early the next morning, long before either of his visitors were awake. He made sure to leave them a note telling them where he was going and that he was coming back. He also told them to feel free to go exploring, as long as they didn’t spook the locals.

It should have been no surprise when Clint found him at the fifth house of his rounds. He was checking Mrs Rahman’s ulcerated ankle when her granddaughter came running in, Clint trailing after her.

“ _He’s the man I told you about yesterday, grandma!_ ” the girl said excitedly.

“ _Dilara, what did I tell you about strangers?_ ” Mrs. Rahman said, eyeing Clint.

“ _It’s alright,_ ” Bruce said, “ _he’s my friend._ ” Then in English, “Clint, what are you doing here?”

“Time for lunch,” he said, “you have to eat something.”

“I’ll be done in a sec,” he said, “let me just finish here, can you wait outside?”

Clint nodded and left again.

“ _Sorry about that,_ ” he said to the old woman. She just smiled at him so he figured he was in the clear. He finished what he was doing and went out to meet Clint.

“Where’s Natasha?” he asked.

“She’s looking around,” Clint said, squinting at the sun, “making friends. Hey, how many languages do you speak?”

“A bit of everything, to be honest,” Bruce said, starting the walk back to his hut, “I’m not fluent in any of them though, just enough to get me by. Why? Can’t you speak a hundred and one languages?”

“Nope,” Clint said, grinning at him, “just good ol’ English. I could probably tell you what language they’re talking, but not what any of the words mean.”

“Sorry,” Bruce said, frowning, “I thought, because Natasha-”

“Yeah, Natasha is way cooler than I am, she’s got a better memory for things like language and faces and stuff,” he said easily, “but I’m a better shot, and I’m smarter than she is. But don’t tell her I said that, because she could still probably kill me.”

Bruce was surprised into laughter. He realised that he’d missed this; companionship, someone to joke around with. He wondered for a second if maybe he’d made a mistake leaving, then quickly dismissed the thought.

***

They had lunch under a tree by the river, their only company a pair of woman washing clothes downriver, chatting and - every once in a while - breaking into giggles.

“Clint said you made some friends,” Bruce said to Natasha.

“Yeah,” she said, picking at her bread, “Turkish is still new to me, they were helping me with the pronunciation of some things.”

“Some of them speak Arabic too,” he said, “you should ask them about that, if you wanted.”

“Oh, that’s great!” she said, her eyes lighting up, “I haven’t had the chance to practice that one yet.”

Clint just grinned and shook his head. “She’ll be fluent in Turkish before we go home, and passable in Arabic.”

Bruce looked between them and felt his heart stutter. “How long are you guys planning on staying?”

They looked between each other, and when Clint wouldn’t meet his eyes, Natasha looked him head on. “As long as it takes,” she said, and left it at that.

Bruce was about to ask what ‘it’ was but there was another burst of giggles from downstream and the moment was broken.

“I have to go back to work,” he said, “schedules to keep, and all that.” He got up and left them at the river side.  
***

He was preoccupied the rest of the day, only listening to his patients’ complaints with half an ear. He still hasn’t decided if he wanted to go back, and having them around was clouding his judgment.

Bruce was the first to go to sleep that night. He woke up to find Clint on his right and Natasha on his left, each curled protectively around him. He swallowed, and closed his eyes, willing himself to get up.

Eventually, he extracted himself from them, and left. This time it was Natasha who came to find him for lunch, in a singlet and a skirt that looked to be borrowed from the locals.

“Clint is playing soccer with some kids,” she said as a greeting, when he came out of the house to find her waiting.

“They’ll give him a run for his money,” he said warily.

She smiled. “He’ll do okay.”

They walked back in silence, but this too, was comfortable. In fact, this was the most comfortable he’s seen Natasha since she and Clint arrived, and he said so.

“You were right,” she said, “it’s nice, to not have to worry about villains and superheroes. We’ve never really had a holiday before.”

Bruce returned her smile but didn’t reply. Holidays eventually ended.

***

The next morning he woke up tangled between them again. This time, Clint’s arm was thrown across his chest, his bow wedged between them. If Bruce savoured the moment, well, no one was watching.

As he was getting ready, Clint woke up. He watched him stumble around for a second and then sat up. “Can I come with you today?”

“Come where?” Bruce asked, trying to find a clean pair of socks.

“To see your patients,” Clint said, “to see what you do.”

He hesitated but figured there wasn’t any harm. “Yeah, sure,” he said. Maybe if they saw what he did, they’d more likely let him stay.

He introduced Clint to all his patients, and he quickly became a favourite of almost everyone, despite not being able to speak the same language.

Some of them tried to teach him, some of them gave them food, and some got him to fix things while Bruce was busy.

By the third day Mrs. Rahman had taken a shine to him. But instead of talking to him she smiled at Bruce. “ _Your friend has a crush on you,_ ” she said.

“ _What? No,_ ” he said, trying to brush it off but feeling the blush creep up his cheeks, “ _he’s with the woman with the red hair, our friend._ ”

But this only made her grin wider. “ _I am an old woman,_ ” she said, “ _and I have seen many things. I do not know about this woman friend of yours but this one would like to take you to bed_.”

He felt his eyes widen, dart to Clint and then away again, his face practically glowing with heat.

“What did she say?” Clint asked, looking between them, and smiling faintly.

“Nothing,” he said, too quickly.

“Okay,” Clint replied, slow in comparison, still looking confused.

“She just really likes you,” he mumbled.

“ _It looks like you like him too, doctor,_ ” she said, almost laughing, laughing at _him_.

“ _Please_ ,” he said, “ _they are only visiting, I don't want to mess anything up._ ”

She was silent until the end of the session, but as they were about to leave, she held him back. “ _Sometimes a risk is worth taking,_ ” she said, “ _if both of you will be happy._

“ _He’s already happy,_ ” he said.

“ _But you are not,_ ” she said, and let him go, effectively ending the conversation.

When he joined Clint outside, Clint gave him a sideways look. “Everything okay with that lady?”

“Yeah,” Bruce said dismissively, “just old lady rambles, let’s go get lunch.”

***

The next day, he woke them both up with him. “I need to go down to the town to get some supplies, and there’s this great place we can go to dinner afterwards.”

They looked at each other, and Natasha shrugged. “Sure,” she said, “let’s go.”

“Great,” he said, smiling, “we can take the car down.”

“Car?” Clint asked, packing his bow in its case with his quiver.

“Yeah, a village car, Emre works in town, but he’s happy to take ride along,” he said, then, “you won’t need that.”

“Can never be too careful,” Clint said.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Let him take it,” she said, “there’s no winning this argument.”

Bruce shrugged. “Have it your way,” he said, “but I warned you.”

During the drive down, Emre asked them about their stay in the village, and their work and their home in America. They answered with fake personas, ones they’d been using since they arrived. He was an analyst, she was a personal assistant, and they were visiting Bruce, an old friend they’d met through mutual friends.

Emre seemed to like them. When he dropped them off, he shook their hands and told them he’d be leaving at six that evening if they wanted a ride back, since the walk back was an hour and a half.

They spent the day looking at all the local shops; ducking into air conditioned stone buildings and picking up little trinkets, Natasha even bought souvenirs for back home.

At one point, a little kid made a grab for Clint’s case, he almost succeeded too, running as fast as his legs could carry him, but Clint chased him down, grabbing the case back and hugging it to his chest.  
“Mine,” he was saying when the others caught up with him, and Bruce and Natasha could hardly breathe for laughing.

He bought the supplies he needed, and they made their way to dinner. Bruce slid into the booth expecting them to sit together opposite him, but instead Natasha slid in next to him, and Clint and his bow took up the opposite side.

The food was just as good as he’d promised, but he couldn’t pay attention because Natasha was pressed up against him, and he could feel every shift and every laugh she made.

“Listen,” he said, stopping them mid conversation, “what’s going on? Why are you two really here?”

They looked between each other, and this time it was Clint who spoke up. “We have a problem,” he said, “you’re it.”

“I’m it?” Bruce asked, “I’m what exactly? I can’t be the problem, I’m all the way in the middle of nowhere.”

“That’s the problem,” Natasha said, “come home, Bruce.”

“I can’t come home,” he said, feeling his heart rate pick up, “I can’t be around you and stay calm all the time, I can’t do it.”

“Around me?” Natasha said, her face flickering hurt before it froze into a mask.

“No,” he said, “the both of you, together.”

Clint’s eyes widened in understanding. “Tasha and I aren’t- I mean,” he looked at her, “what are we exactly?”

“We have each other,” she said, “but we want to have you too.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Bruce said, looking between them, pressing down the panic. He had to be rational, he had to understand what was going on and where this was going.

“It doesn’t have to,” Clint said, “it’ll be just like this, but... more.”

“And you’re both okay with this?” he asked, looking at Natasha, feeling the Other Guy recede.

She nodded. “We know you, Bruce,” she said, “we know that you feel the same.” She put a hand over his.

Clint took their hands in both of his, one over Natasha’s and one under Bruce’s. “Just like this.”

Bruce pulled his hand away. “I need- I can’t- let me out please.”

Natasha slid out of the booth and let him out.

“The car leaves from the same place in about half an hour,” he told them, “I’ll see you back at the village.”

Clint looked like he was about to call him back but Natasha stopped him with a shake of her head.

He started walking. It was another two hours before he reached his hut. They weren’t there, and at first he worried that they had missed the car but then he found the note, pinned to his wall with an arrow.

It just said ‘we’ll miss you,’ in Natasha’s neat, sharp hand writing.

***

“ _Where is your friend?_ ” Mrs. Rahman asked the next day.

“ _He’s gone home,_ ” Bruce told her, unwrapping her ankle.

“ _Did he need something? Will he visit today?_ ”

“ _No,_ ” Bruce said, removing the bandages under the gauze, “ _back to America._ ”

“ _And you are still here,_ ” she said, looking sad.

“ _Yes_ ,” he said, “ _still here. Your ulcer is looking much better._ ”

“ _I’ve been keeping it up, like you said,_ ” she told him, then, “ _you don’t want to be here._ ”

He couldn't stop the downturn of his mouth, remembering how alone he had felt that morning, without them bracketing him. “ _No,_ ” he agreed.

“ _It’s time for you to go home, doctor_ ” she told him.

“ _And who will look after you, Mrs. Rahman?_ ” he asked.

“ _The doctor in town,_ ” she said, “ _until you send us a nice doctor just like you._ ”

He smiled at that and nodded. “ _Finish the tablets,_ ” he told her, “ _and go see the doctor in town next week._ ”

He finished his rounds for the day, then packed up and left for the airport.

***

When he finally arrived in New York, he made sure to drop in to see Steve, Thor and then Tony, who hugged him like a long lost brother. “Took you long enough, you asshole.”

“I needed to figure out some things,” Bruce told him, unable to stop the smile.

“I bet!” Tony said, “Stuff that Clint and Natasha helped with, right?” And he winked.

Bruce felt himself blush. “Could everyone tell?”

“Nah,” Tony said, “just us who know you well enough. Your lab is still in place, I had Jarvis keep an eye out for anything going crazy but all it did was collect dust. I’ll get the cleaning crew to dust it off for you.”

“That’s- thanks Tony,” Bruce said, meaning it.

“Of course,” Tony said, smiling, “now, go get ‘em.”

Bruce grinned and left to find Natasha and Clint. He found them in the kitchen, splitting a bowl of berries.

He sat down with them, looking from one to the other. “Okay,” he said.

“Okay?” Clint asked, “As in...”

“Yeah,” Bruce said, unable to stop the grin, “I still don’t know how this is going to work, but I’m willing to try.”

Natasha smiled back. “I think between us, we’ll be able to figure it out.”


End file.
